15. Cyaire #3
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Seriously?”
“They figured they already had one performer in the family.” I shrug, the casual gesture belying years of frustration and resentment. “That was enough creativity for one household, apparently.”
“What did you do?” he asks, leaning forward slightly, completely invested in my story now.
“I found other ways.” The memory brings a genuine smile to my face, the first one that’s felt completely unguarded since we started talking about this.
“I auditioned for things whenever I could without them knowing. Community theater productions, student films, anything that would let me perform and explore what I actually wanted to do with my life.”
“And they never found out?” he asks, his eyebrows raised in a mixture of surprise and admiration.
“Not until I decided I wasn’t going to medical school.” The words carry the weight of that entire period of my life, the secret auditions, the careful scheduling, the constant fear of discovery.
The silence that follows is comfortable, contemplative rather than awkward.
“They were furious,” I continue, and this time when I laugh, it’s with the distance that comes from years of perspective. “Absolutely livid. I think my mother didn’t speak to me for three months.”
“I can imagine.”
“I think. . .” I pause, watching Jamie across the yard as he throws his arm around his father’s shoulders, both of them laughing at something I can’t hear from this distance.
The easy affection between them is something I’m still learning to navigate in my own family relationships.
“I think Julian gave me the courage to finally choose for myself. Watching him pursue what he loved, seeing him succeed on his own terms, it made me realize that disappointing our parents wasn’t the end of the world.
Then, years later, we both came out, and that changed everything all over again. ”
I smile, softer this time, thinking about how far we’ve all come. “Those two decisions, leaving medicine and coming out, completely transformed our family dynamic. Not overnight, and definitely not without consequences. Some of those consequences we’re still living with.”
“Worth it?” he asks, the question casual but the interest behind it genuine.
I don’t even have to think about the answer. “Every single second.”
Jacques nods slowly, processing everything I’ve shared with the seriousness it deserves.
“I think I’d rather disappoint someone else than spend the rest of my life disappointing myself.”
The simple truth of his words hits me harder than I expected, settling somewhere deep in my chest like a revelation I’m still learning to fully embrace. I’m apparently just full of realizations today.
“So would I.”
A familiar shadow falls across us before I have a chance to say anything else.
I look up to find Jamie smiling down at me, his youngest cousin still balanced comfortably against his hip.
Without a word, he leans down and presses a quick kiss against my forehead. His warm lips send a shiver moving quietly down my spine and I have to stop myself from tilting my chin up and demanding something more, something longer.
“You need anything?” Jamie asks, pulling back just far enough to look me over properly, his eyes moving across my face the way they always do, like he’s taking inventory.
I smile up at him. “Nope. I’m good.”
His eyes stay on mine for a beat longer than necessary, searching, unhurried, making sure the answer is real before he’s satisfied enough to accept it.
Only then does he glance toward his brother. “You been interrogating him?”
Jacques grins, wide and completely unrepentant. “I’ve been having a perfectly reasonable, genuinely illuminating conversation.”
“Sure you have.” Jamie cuts a flat look in his direction that carries absolutely no heat behind it whatsoever.
He rolls his eyes in the way that only older siblings truly can, all affection buried under theatrical exasperation, before carefully shifting his small cousin toward Jacques with the ease of someone who has done it a hundred times before.
“Your turn.”
Jacques laughs, low and easy, accepting her without a moment’s hesitation or complaint.
“C’mon, peanut.” He settles her securely against his hip, adjusting her weight until she’s comfortable, before nodding toward the house. “Let’s go find your mama.”
The little girl wraps both arms trustingly around his neck without so much as a murmur of protest as Jacques carries her back toward the noise and warmth of the gathering crowd, leaving Jamie standing quietly beside my chair in the space his brother just vacated.
He looks down at me again. Just that, nothing rushed about it.
“So.” His smile shifts into something gentler, more private than the one he carries around the rest of the afternoon. “You okay?”
I hold his gaze for a moment, long enough to let him see the answer before I say it.
“I’m more than okay.”
The rest of the afternoon slips by in the easy, unhurried way only good days seem capable of doing.
Somewhere between second helpings I definitely don’t need, three fiercely competitive games of dominoes that Jamie’s uncles insist I join, and more conversations than I can possibly remember, I stop feeling like a guest.
I become part of it all, a part of something I never knew I missed out on or needed.
Cameron fares no differently. By the time the sun begins its slow descent over Puget Sound, he’s been recruited into family photographs, challenged to a game of spades he never stood a chance of winning, and unofficially adopted by at least four of Jamie’s cousins.
At one point, I catch him carrying somebody’s sleepy toddler on his shoulder while Jamie’s mother disappears inside to pack leftovers into enough containers to feed us for the next week.
Nobody asks who I am anymore. I’m simply Cyaire.
As evening settles over the Sound, everyone drifts toward the dock to watch the fireworks.
Boats gather farther out across the water, their navigation lights dancing against the darkening waves while children wave sparklers from the shoreline and bursts of red, white, and gold begin blooming overhead, their reflections rippling across the bay.
I stand shoulder to shoulder with Jamie, our hands brushing together until his fingers quietly slip between mine.
Nobody says a word. We simply enjoy the show together.
I don’t think I’ve ever watched fireworks surrounded by this much laughter or this much love.
By the time we finally say our goodbyes, the knot that’s been sitting quietly beneath my ribs all afternoon has returned.
Jamie’s mother pulls me into another hug before I can escape.
“You come back whenever you want, baby,” she says holding my cheeks between her soft hands.
My smile wobbles as emotion presses unexpectedly behind my eyes. I swallow down the lump in my throat and nod. “Yes, ma’am. I’d like that.”
I mean it, more than she realizes. By the way she smiles at Jamie as he takes my hand and leads me down the driveway, maybe she does.
As I climb into the passenger seat of Jamie’s truck, one thought follows me all the way to the door closing behind me.
Will I come back?
The city lights blur past the passenger window as we make our way back toward Queen Anne, the neighborhoods shifting and softening beneath the glow of the warm summer night. Cameron’s SUV stays a comfortable distance behind us, its headlights a steady, familiar fixture in the rearview mirror.
Jamie glances at me before returning his attention to the road.